Chapter Seventy-Three: The Book of Dawn

Thunder rumbled...

Lightning struck, illuminating the black castle. Mulan walked alone along the garden path, holding an umbrella. He looked up at the main building not far ahead. In the electric glare, the gargoyle sculptures clinging to the gothic roof appeared even more sinister—their bulging eyes seemed to follow every passerby, while their sharp fangs and claws yearned to tear and shred their prey.

Walton's little tricks—these gargoyles, though petrified, were not entirely insensate. They could feel the rain and myriad scents, sense the shadows of the Inner World. Perhaps, even now, one among them was revived atop the roof, vigilantly watching over the black castle.

Mulan withdrew his gaze and walked toward his residence, unfazed by the gloom. His steps were light; he was in the best condition he’d been in for some time.

After passing the main building and walking for six or seven minutes, small dwellings began to appear along the path. Aside from a few houses with fixed ownership, many had already become or were being prepared as student dormitories—four to a building, separated by gender.

The three-story house Mulan passed by happened to be home to four students—two from the first batch after the castle’s curriculum reform, and two new arrivals.

Drawing on his past life’s experience, Mulan, now a teacher, instinctively hoped his students would maintain a spirit of camaraderie and mutual aid, even amidst competition. While not everyone could be so, the atmosphere was set.

Thus, the two senior students, acting as mentors, were tutoring the new arrivals, helping them adapt quickly to the castle’s academic life.

“Remember this point: Ancient sorcerers were fond of research, but most of their magic was taught through experience. The modern magical system, however, introduced quantifiable data and discarded many unpleasant and erroneous aspects. So, in the conventional sense, the distinction between light and dark sorcerers today is mainly about personal character, not the magic they practice.”

“Oh.” “You need to memorize that.”

One senior was tutoring at the dining table, while the other was boiling water for tea at the stove. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar figure with a large black umbrella walking along the path. The cane gleaming silver in the lightning—it could be none other than the professor.

“Professor Joinster?”

The student at the table immediately set his notes aside and stood up.

“What’s the matter? Did you see the professor? I haven’t seen him in ages!”

“Yes, he’s outside, walking—it's definitely him.”

Ignoring the new students’ confusion, the two hurried to the entryway and opened the door just as Mulan was about ten meters away, about to turn down another path.

“Professor! Professor Joinster, is that you?” one called out.

Mulan turned to see the two students standing in the doorway, with two unfamiliar faces just behind.

“Good evening, Upton and Ewan. At Black Castle, it’s best not to wander outside at night,” Mulan called.

Upton and Ewan exchanged glances. It truly was Professor Joinster.

Ewan couldn’t help but call out, “Professor, you haven’t taught our classes in ages. We have so many new students now. When will you teach again?”

Mulan spun his umbrella; raindrops scattered outward in a spray.

“With all the new arrivals, it seems we’ll need to implement a grade system soon,” he mused. “I’ll return to teaching this week. Be sure to have your notebooks ready. By the way, I’ll also give a few lectures on potion basics. Remind the others if you can. Good night, then.”

“Good night, Professor!” “Good night, Professor Joinster!”

After their farewells, the students watched Mulan walk away, excitement brimming.

“Senior, was that truly Professor Joinster?”

“Haha, yes, that was him. I was so worried he’d stopped teaching.”

“It’s good news—he’ll be back soon! When the other teachers’ lectures are tough to grasp, the professor always helps us break down the principles. Otherwise, we’d forget everything as soon as class was over.”

While the students chatted excitedly, a faint smile played at the corners of Mulan’s mouth as he walked on. These young, untainted souls—some among them could become valuable allies.

But now, his thoughts turned to the demon that had vanished from its vessel. Who knew how the old sorcerer would react? In any case, Mulan was entirely “uninformed.”

...

After returning home and washing up, Mulan sat at his desk. The gas lamps throughout the house were extinguished, save for a single oil lamp on the table.

On the table sat a small jar of special ink, a fountain pen filled with it, and a brand new black notebook.

Mulan now understood he possessed at least three innate abilities that set him apart from other extraordinary beings. The first was his power to bestow will and names upon certain objects with special ties to him, endowing them with unique powers—possibly even turning them into special elements themselves.

There were, however, limits. So far, only Halo and Fang had succeeded; ordinary paper, pens, and clothing did not.

The second ability resembled an ancient contract or perhaps something more wondrous. Objects that truly recognized Mulan as their master could be summoned to his hand. The boundaries of distance, size, and mass were unclear, but the energy level was certainly high—after all, even a demon could be summoned.

To be honest, although Mulan had sensed something before, the demon’s willingness to serve him as master was nonetheless surprising.

The first time he used this summoning power was on Valentine’s night, during that tense confrontation with the murderer. At that time, Fang had not yet been named, but it already possessed a nascent consciousness and could recognize Mulan as its master.

The third ability was Mulan’s powerful resonance, along with his extraordinary learning and comprehension—a gift even more vital than the former two.

These abilities were the foundation of his strength. What he needed next was to build a structure, an organization.

Mulan picked up the pen and drew a cluster of burning flames on the black notebook’s cover, then extended lines from the flames into a symbolic pattern of radiance—his own emblem.

Light shimmered at his fingertips, as if a feather shedding points of light merged into the pen’s ink, causing the symbol to glow on the notebook’s cover.

Yet, after only a dozen seconds, the light faded, then vanished, leaving no trace—not even the ink. This, too, was a minor trick, derived from potion theory: a special ink compatible with his own existential force, which, in reaction, caused the symbol to disappear. The combination also provided a locking effect, making the notebook impossible to open—albeit only against lesser threats.

Chapter One: The Terrible Maelstrom—a sign that the world is being dragged toward chaos and ruin. Some researchers may sense the danger, but far from enough. Others see it as the dawn of transformation, a source of new wonders...

Chapter Two: The Ludicrous Cultists—souls twisted by desire. Money, power, life, strength—they crave quicker, greater gains. Evil and base, foolish and greedy...

Chapter Three: The Ignorant Occultists—thrilled by the world’s transformation, celebrating the extension of power and the marvels of mystical elements and relics. Ever stronger mystical forces—this is what they seek. They believe their methods of extracting order from chaos are more rational, their rituals for wielding relics more scientific. They research across disciplines, convinced these are great reforms, the next evolution—tirelessly hastening the coming of night...

Chapter Four: The Pitiful Light of the Sanctuary...

Chapter Five: The Entanglement and Sorrow of Inhuman Beings and the World...

Chapter Six: The Torch’s Light...

...

This was a book for expressing his thoughts—a book in which Mulan vented his observations from every angle, without vulgarity or idle chatter. It was also a record of truths uncovered.

Its creation was itself an experiment: Mulan outlined the program, left ample room in each chapter for additions, and planned for new pages to be inserted later. Each step brimmed with his will and emotion, even with memories—terrifying or beautiful—infused within.

If a weapon’s function and fate are largely decided in the forge, the meaning of a book is determined when its words and images are set down.

As dawn approached and the first light touched the horizon, Mulan closed the book and rested his right hand on the cover. He remembered every word, understood every hidden image...

In that moment, sparks appeared on the cover, slowly shifting. As the branding flickered, a line of words emerged:

My name is: The Book of Dawn. My master, Mulan Joinster, has granted me will. Under the shadow of chaos, I record the world’s darkness; beneath the torch’s light I am born of dawn’s will. I guard these secrets, waiting to reveal them to those who yearn for light!